Mr Erickson's Case
by Esmeralda I
Summary: Private detective Johnathan Erickson thought nothing when he decided to assist his cousin and colleague, Rick Erickson, with a case. A modern take on a mystifying novella.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer! I own practically nothing!**

* * *

><p>It was a bright, and happy Sunday afternoon. A chilled wind stole the dying leaves from their sleeping branches. It sent them swirling into the air until they dropped onto the sidewalk. Two men were strolling down that same path, kicking up the leaves as they did. One had a certain swagger in his step, but nonetheless was vexed by something.<p>

"I don't understand it," he said looking around at the humming cars.

His companion did not look, but only said, "What is it?"

"How could I just let him slip through my fingers like that?"

The other gave a quickly vanishing inquisitive look, "A case of yours?"

The younger sighed, "Yes, an old one too. A whole year old."

"Why bring it up now?"

He looked his cousin in the eyes, "Because I saw him just last week. I could have arrested him right there! But he disappeared."

Presently the elder cousin stopped, "Who are you talking about? Or can you not?"

"No," he shook his blond, curly head, "It happened not too far from here, a little over a year ago.

"It was New Year's Day, and I was waiting for the three AM bus on the corner of Queen and Thirteenth, just around the block here. I waited long enough to tell that my bus was running late. But then, just as I was about to leave, I saw a girl running down Queen with a look of pure terror on her face, and chasing after her was a young man. I took a step towards the girl's path, and she ran up to me like I was her long lost father. Then _he_ approached me. And let me tell you, just thinking about that man sends chills down my spine!"

"Come on, Rick," replied the other.

"Okay, he didn't look like a monster, but something about him just screamed _kidnapper_ or _serial_ _killer_.

"Anyway," he continued, "I looked him in the eye, and asked him what was up. Instantly the girl hid behind me and started to cry, begged me not let him take her away. The man looked as if he was about to grab her right then and run off with her. Instead he bolts off and down Thirteenth, and before I know it I was following him. I ran for a couple of blocks until I was able to grab him by the shirt collar. He turned around and gave me the worst 'Go to hell' look I ever saw, and pushed me away. Then he ran off again, but I have no clue as to where."

"A kidnapper got away, just like that?"

Rick nodded, "Just like that."

"How can I help?"

"Well," Rick began, "keep your eyes peeled for starters."

He put a hand on Rick's shoulder, "How about I help you with your case? You can let me read the file and I'll do what I can."

The other let out a hopeful breath, "Are you sure you want to?"

He nodded, "Just consider it a helpful hand from a cousin."

That night Johnathan sat in the light of his desk lamp, and read and re-read Rick's case file. The man's name was unknown, and his description obscure, save for his height. Even the girl he tried to kidnap could not shed light on the mystery. After a few hours of failed deducing he uneasily retired to bed. His worried mind tried to find refuge in dreams, but it only produced Johnathan's recurring nightmare. Where he's lost in every meaning of the word. The nightmare where he has thousands of foreign paths surrounding him, and he goes down the ones that feel the most familiar. It always ends with him finding himself in front of a stranger's house, yet he has the key.

In the morning Johnathan found himself laying on the couch in a cold sweat. He had been sleepwalking, again. The detective took a shower, washing away the memory of his dream. _Maybe I should see a therapist about this, but who has the time?_ He dressed, ate, and caught a taxi to work.

During lunch Johnathan decided to pay his old friend Hayden a visit. They sat in Hayden's living room talking about nothing in particular when Johnathan thought he'd bring up the case.

"By chance, Hayden, have you heard of any rumors of suspicious people by Queen and Thirteenth.

He turned his head away to think, his face silhouetted by the light, "You mean by where Harry lives? I don't think I have." Hayden paused and a nostalgic look appeared in his eyes, "I remember how crazy he used to be in med-school."

He smiled inwardly, remembering the enthusiastic Harry, "Don't we all do stupid things in collage?"

"Oh, but the insane ideas he had! I'm surprised he made it to become a doctor."

Johnathan scrunched up his nose, "I'm sure he wasn't as bad as that."

At this Hayden let out a good laugh, "You don't even know the half of it!"

"And it looks like I never will," Johnathan said, looking at his watch, "I promised to meet up with my cousin after lunch."

"Well," said his friend with a smile, "see you around."

Johnathan said his goodbyes and head out the door to work.

That night, to Johnathan's dislike, was a sleepless one. His brain ached for another clue to help solve the case. Theories and superstitions popped up in his mind. The hours ticked by and still he remained awake. Why was this affair haunting his thoughts so? He didn't know.

Night turned into day, day back into night, and soon Johnathan was spending his Friday evening with Hayden. Johnathan watched as Hayden tried to carry a heavy bowling ball to the lane.

"Having trouble?" the detective asked.

"No," the other said as he threw the ball, striking nine pins. "See, I know what I'm doing."

Being his turn, Johnathan rose, "Why must everything be a competition with you? We're just bowling. Have fun with it."

"You preaching about having fun?" Hayden laughed. "You're the serious one. It's why people find it hard to approach you. Maybe if you smiled more, got out more."

"I'm out now, aren't I?" he replied, "And I'm smiling."

Hayden shook his head and chuckled, "Isn't your turn?"

Johnathan took his bowling ball in hand, and threw it down the lane. He watch as the ball slowly rolled from the center to the side, hitting only six pins. Johnathan returned his friend. Hayden was bent over, trying to fix his tight shoes.

"Speaking of getting out," said Johnathan, "you should have invited your wife. Isn't she lonely?"

"She's fine. Rebecca actually told me that she was planing to have a quiet evening to herself."

"I've been told it's hard to be a teacher."

Hayden sighed, "And she always tries to chew more than she can swallow. I wish that she would be more easy on herself."

"It's not easy to teach."

"No, no it isn't. But she pulls it off well enough," said Hayden as he left to get his ball and put it into his bag.

Another week passed by and still Johnathan was not any closer to solving to mystery. He once even devoted a whole day to trying to find the kidnapper. After, once again, coming up with nothing he thought it was better to relax than to collapse. Luckily for Johnathan, his friend Harry had invited him to a wine tasting. Being opulent man, Harry was known for his fancy dinner parties. And, being a good friend, Johnathan showed up to as many as he possibly could.

Glasses sang as the guests raised them in the name of health and good wine. Harry's fellow doctors and rich acquaintances laughed at his toast, and drank. Reclusive Johnathan sipped his with a grin.

"Only you would say something like that," said one.

Harry nodded his head and motioned a hand to Johnathan, "This guy will have your sides splitting if you get him going. He's great with jokes."

"Yeah," chuckled Johnathan, "bad jokes."

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself! What about that one you told last time you were here?"

"What joke?"

"The one about your aunt."

Johnathan blushed, "It's a bad pun, probably the worst there is."

"Alright then," he then turned to a man sitting across from him, "What about you, Mr. Kingston? Any jokes or stories?"

And so the guests prattled on, but Johnathan could not keep his mind from his work. The evening passed into night, and Johnathan waited until he was alone with Harry. He needed to tell his friend of the possible danger he could be in.

"There's something important I must discuss with you, Harry," he said looking into the doctor's sparkling red eyes.

His signature, charming smile disappeared into his face, "Yes?"

"I wanted to warn you about a suspicious character that's been seen around here."

"Oh really?"

"A short man was seen trying to kidnap a child not too far from here. I'm not trying to spread rumors, Harry, I'm just worried about someone breaking into your house."

Harry smiled and patted his anxious friend on the back, "I'm sure if the occasion ever occurred I would be dumb enough to invite him in before he could shatter any of my windows."

Johnathan chuckled, "That you would." He sighed and glanced at the clock. "It's late, I should get going."

Harry showed the detective to the door, "Be careful."

"You too."

As time passed the temperature dropped, and the nights grew longer. Firs, Evergreens, and Pines alike were decorated with little colored lights. Failed predictions of snow were broadcast almost every week, as were Johnathan's attempts to try and herd his family back to town. So again Rick and Johnathan spent their Christmas together. It was spent in Rick's apartment this time, which was a nice change. Holly was draped around the windows and the air was filled with the scent of fresh baked goods. The two cousins sat around the faux-fireplace and told old Christmas tales of years passed. It was like all of the family had come back and were enjoying his uncle's famous pie. For the first time in a lone time Johnathan had a wonderful night, a night without thinking about the mysterious man.

The wondrous holiday passed, as did the lovely spring, and hard-working summer. The cold, romantic season of fall was upon them again. Neither Johnathan nor Rick was any closer to finding the man. Truthfully, it was rarely on Johnathan's mind anymore. Then on one particular November day Rick popped his head over Johnathan's computer monitor.

"Johnathan?" he said in an earnest manner.

"Yes?" he replied, turning around.

"There has been a murder, and it may have something to do with our case."

"What happened?"

He jingled his car keys, "That's for us to find out."

Johnathan came to the scene of the crime, the corner of Queen and Twelfth. As he stepped out of the car and saw that the gutters were brown with old blood. Mangled on the asphalt was the body of a man identified as Mr. Dan Kingston. He had been sliced open, his organs spilled, and his body an utter mess. Johnathan interviewed a young woman who had witnessed the murder.

Poor girl, she had only just started collage. To be so young and yet to see something so horrible. She had spent most of the time sobbing. Johnathan pitied her, she would certainly need therapy after the interview. She described the murderer as "short and ugly", much like Rick's description. The woman also identified the murder weapon as an ordinary kitchen knife. Continuing on, the poor lady apologized again and again for not stopping the man. Johnathan quickly cut the interview short, for the young lady was starting to have a panic attack.

Once again Johnathan was back at his desk, trying to decipher his clues. He knew this man was mostly nocturnal, or at least preferred to do his dirty work then. Evidence from Dan Kingston's body showed that the murderer was not particularly skilled in killing. Lastly he knew that this man was short and odd looking, and that he was frequently around Queen and Thirteenth. Not much for a detective to go off of, but just enough for a plan to start forming in his mind. He would find this man if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

><p><strong>As part of the disclaimer I'd like to state that I based most of the character's appearances on Sabrina Cotugno's The Glass Scientist. If you don't know what that is, I highly recommend you check out her Tumblr. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer! Just a humble fan writing a fanfic.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>The sun rose the next day on Johnathan's empty house. Save for a poor, tiny spider in a corner, the house was lifeless. The private was at Queen and Thirteenth, waiting. Johnathan watched as the streets gradually began to become active. One person, then three, then a few cars rushed around to destinations unknown. All the while he was watching and inspecting the face of every person that passed that corner. Trying to find a needle in a great, big haystack. The day passed on and night fell upon the corner. Seeing that he was alone, Johnathan took refuge in an alley. A place where he could see others, but they could not see him. He checked his watch, it was ten o'clock right on the dot. The last car of the evening passed, and still he waited.<p>

Suddenly the private noticed a light footfall, like someone trotting down the street. Johnathan pushed himself farther back into the darkness. The sound came closer and closer until a small and suspicious figure strode his way passed the alley. Calmly Johnathan slipped right behind the man, following him like a wolf. This had to be the man, wasn't it? He fit the description perfectly, but couldn't anyone? Couldn't _he_? But Johnathan diverted his thoughts, he was following the killer. The man turned the corner and down a byway that seemed so familiar to the one stalking him. A golden key gleamed in the figure's hand.

Johnathan stepped behind him, "Your game of hide and seek is over."

The man dropped the key and bent to pick it up. As he did so Johnathan saw the old and worn door he knew too well. _This is Harry's house!_

"Are you a friend of Dr. Jacobs?" Johnathan asked.

He stood up, still facing the door, and answered, "You could say so."

"Who are you?"

He made a noise like he was about to speak but paused, then said, "Who wants to know?"

"Johnathan Erickson, private detective. You are?"

"Dr. Jacob's assistant, I run errands for him."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Who said errands can only be ran during daylight hours?"

Johnathan sighed and shifted his weight, "Let's cut to the chase. Where were you on the night of November ninth at about this time?"

"Hmm," the man said with his back still turned, "let me think. Oh yes! I was running another midnight errand for Dr. Jacobs."

"The errand being?"

"I was at the drug store to get some pain killers," he coolly replied.

Johnathan still didn't like how he couldn't see this man's face. "Good," he said, "now if you'd let me ask you one last question, I'll leave you be."

"The question?"

"Let me see your face."

The man then unlock the door and began to leave.

"Sir!" _What had happened, he was being so cooperative?_

He stopped. Having one foot inside he said, "I let you ask your question, now I get to go."

Johnathan raised his voice, "Let me talk to you face-to-face."

"Alright," he chortled, "I'll turn around." The man took a spinning step back and stood in the doorway. His eyes glowed emerald, like a cougar's haunting gaze. This was all Johnathan could see of him before the green-eyed man shut the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**As I'm sure you know, I own nothing.**

* * *

><p>Johnathan stood there in the byway, alone. <em>If what he said is true, then this man is innocent. But there is defiantly something peculiar about him. I should talk to Harry about this in the morning.<em> He strode out of the byway, hoping to catch Paul, Harry's housekeeper. Johnathan came to the corner and saw just that, Paul walking out to his car.

"Paul!" the detective called.

The housekeeper turned his head, "Mr. Erickson?"

Johnathan got closer to him and said, "You're just the man I wanted to talk to."

"I am?" Paul asked puzzled, "What are you doing, walking around so late at night?"

"It's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," he started. " I wanted ask what you know about Harry's assistant."

"His assistant?" he was even more puzzled now.

Johnathan tensed up from the reply. "A green-eyed man," he said nervously, "he has a key."

Suddenly the cloud of confusion lifted from Paul's face, "Oh, you mean Ernest. Yes, he's allowed to come in and out as he pleases."

"Harry must put a great deal of trust in this Ernest. Do you know anything more about him?"

Paul shook his head, "I'm afraid not, Mr. Erickson."

"Do you know when Harry will be home?"

Paul shrugged, "I should hope that he would be home in the morning."

"Well," Johnathan sighed, "thanks anyway. Have a good night," he turned to leave.  
>"You too. Have a safe trip home, sir."<p>

Johnathan sat in the back of the cab, deep in thought, as Christmas music played softly through the speakers. This Ernest was an odd one, but Harry trusted him. Why would such a well-to-do man let an odd stranger run about his house? Johnathan needed to sleep on it and discuss this with Rick in the morning.

That night Johnathan's mind was once again attacked by his nightmare. Only this time it was so vivid that he almost thought himself there. In the dream, Johnathan had ran to Harry's house in the dead of night. There he found his friend Harry yelling at someone in a room. Harry was cursing Ernest's name when his dear friend turned around and saw him. Quickly Harry pushed him out of the room, telling him, "Go home. Go to sleep." Johnathan wasn't even sure if it was the same man anymore, it was a different side to Harry that he'd never seen.

His alarm buzzed him awake. Johnathan rose from the couch and trudged into the kitchen. Soon a sizzle, sounding like rainfall, and the greasy aroma of bacon filled the air as he got out a carton of eggs. Johnathan sat at the table with his food and a mug of warm coffee. He contemplated over all of the bloody and gruesome details of Dan Kingston's murder as he calmly ate his eggs. Then the phone rang. _Who would be calling at six-thirty in the morning?_ He got up and, not making any haste, put it to his ear. The frantic voice on the other line stung his eardrum and caused him screw his face up into a grimace. Yet the voice was familiar.

"Rebecca?" he asked concernedly, "I - I can't understand... What? Please calm down and tell..." his eyes opened wide, "Call an ambulance, I will be there as soon as I can... Yes, I - I will. But you have to promise me to call an ambulance as soon as I hang up. Okay?" Johnathan hung up the phone as fast as lighting. He threw on a jacket and ran out the door. Looking around he saw a lack of taxis. "I need to get a car," he groaned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer!**

* * *

><p>Objects zipped by the window as Johnathan rode in the back of a taxi. As soon as the vehicle was close to the curb he dashed out and onto Hayden's lawn. There was no ambulance, but Johnathan didn't pay much attention to that. He jumped up the steps and halted in front of the unlocked door. The detective bit his lip, cautiously opened the door, and peeked inside. To his surprise Rebecca was already standing there, phone to her ear and hands stained with blood.<p>

"Yes," she said with a trembling voice to the person on the other line, "he's alive, but h - he wont stop bleeding!" Not paying attention to Johnathan, she dashed away to another part of the room.

Johnathan opened the door wider and was hit with the poisoning sight. Hayden was laying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. Rebecca was trying to stop the bleeding by pressing a now crimson tablecloth on his stomach. Johnathan's eyes lingered on the gory wound on the poor man's torso, despite the fact that it made him feel ill to do so. Hayden's face was bruised and scratched from what looked to be some brutal fight. Johnathan couldn't move. Despite becoming accustomed to blood, corpses, and the like, the detective couldn't shake the feeling of horror he had when he saw his dear friend dying on the floor. Something inside him forced him to fly to Hayden and take his arm.

"Hayden!" he cried. "What happened to you?"

His dark eyes snapped over to Johnathan's gaze. For a moment Hayden was afraid, tears welled up in his eyes. "Go," he said with trembling lips, "go away."

Johnathan sat there steadfastly, "I need to know who did this to you."

"Harry," he said louder, "he knows. Ask him!"

Just then, paramedics came rushing in, and Johnathan was pushed away from his friend. The room started to spin, but that didn't matter, he needed to see Harry. He needed to get to the bottom of this. Johnathan ran out the door and called for another taxi, and, after running for a couple blocks, was able to get a hold of one. The whole ride passed by in a blurry flash, and, once again, Johnathan found himself running up the steps of a friend's house.

Paul answered, "Mr. Erickson?"

"Where's Harry?" the words hastily came tumbling out of his mouth.

"Last I remember, he was in the lab-"

But Johnathan had shoved passed the housekeeper and was rushing through the living room before the housekeeper could finish. Johnathn felt his heart race with panic as he passed through the kitchen and into the garden. Withered leaves and branches caught on his legs as he raced to the laboratory door. His fist banged on the old wood as he yelled, demanding his friend to let him enter. The door flew open and suddenly a bottle was jammed into his hands. It was Ernest.

"Take it!" he cried, "Take it away from me!"

Quickly observing, Johnathan saw the label on the bottle, "Cyanide?"

Although the man had gained a some confidence from passing the bottle, he shuddered, "He wants me to drink it."

Johnathan stood there looking at this odd man for the first time. He felt so familiar, yet so much like a stranger. Like when one tries to recall a fading dream. However, panic set in again and the feeling didn't last long.

"Where is Harry?" he asked.

Ernest smirked, "I thought Lorry told you."

"No," Johnathan replied. He paused, and Johnathan remembered who he was talking to. A suspect, a criminal. The detective began to feel light headed. Again he demanded, "Where is Harry."

"He's not dead, I'll tell you that. But," Ernest somberly sat in a chair, "he wants to be."

Johnathan's head was still spinning, and his mind cloudy with fear. He had to clear it somehow, "Two years ago, did you try and kidnap a girl?"

"You mean that brat I saved?" he growled not at Johnathan, but at misinformation.

Johnathan gripped the table.

Ernest sighed, "You should sit down."

_No, why should I?_ "Did you kill Mr. Dan Kingston," he began to ask bluntly, "and Dr. Hayden Lorry."

The strange man opened his mouth to answer, and paused. His tone changed, like a concerned friend, "Johnathan, you need to sit down."

"Answer me!"

"No! Sit down." Ernest stood up in an attempted to tower over him.

His mind was swirling around in every direction, "Did you kill them!" The fog in his mind was so thick he could barely breath.

"Johnathan," Ernest raised his voice and took a step toward, "you know that I'm not a very patient person. Now you sit down in that chair before I - "

Darkness. Nothing but darkness and a bang was all Johnathan sensed before he was lost in his nightmare. The topic of the news that night? Detective diagnosed with DID is arrested for the murder of a local chemist.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope that you enjoyed reading this, and thank you for doing so. Please review! And try to keep warm this winter, it's freezing outside!<strong>


End file.
